Left Behind
by Sora Moto
Summary: Canada has always been left behind or forgotten. Eventually you become numb to the pain of betrayal.
1. Chapter 1

Ok I just need to work on something new. I swear this will only be a one shot. Honest.

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Canada has always been left behind and forgotten. The first time it happened was shortly after he came into being. Back then he was called Vinland. The nordics had made their way to his shores and settled there. That had been the moment he had first opened his eyes to the world. They had found him, the nordics. Norway had been the one to actually bring him to their settlement and out of the wild. He was happy and between Norway and Finland, Denmark and Sweden he couldn't ask for more as family. He quickly became one of them. Despite this however his native people were not so accepting of the strangers. He tried to explain to them that these strange people were not a threat but friends. They didn't listen and instead made life for the settlers very difficult. Eventually the Nordics were forced to leave. Their people there needed supplies that could only come from them returning home. They had promised to return and left him in the care of their people that they left behind.

"We will return for you Vinland. Just wait for us here."

They never came back. Their people eventually either left or died. He stayed. He waited. Eventually he had to leave that shore for survival but he kept coming back, hoping he would see those tall red and white sails that marked their return.

Years passed and he met France. He had been waiting on the shore from which the nordics had left when he saw a tall white sail. Could it be, were they returning? He rushed down to the beach just as a small sail-less vessel made landfall. The first man to disembark was not one of the nordics, but the small nation felt the familiarity with the man. It was another like himself. Maybe they hadn't been able to return and sent this man in their place. It wasn't so, but the man, known as France, took him up in his arms none the less and promised to never leave him to be abandoned on his shores again.

It was different than with the nordics. France would leave often and return, always bringing more people with him. He gave Canada the name he would use for the rest of his life and helped him to grow. When Canada was just coming to fully trust that the man would keep his promise, the British came, led by a man that Canada had been told about by France. It was England and he was attacking. Canada cried out for France to help him, especially as they attempted to take Quebec. France's soldiers held them at bay but as supplies dwindled they eventually had to give in to the siege. Not long after that Canada learned that France had given him to England. What trust he had gained for the French nation was quickly shattered as he was put under the rule of the mighty British Empire. He began to grew bitter as he realized that England had many colonies like himself to look after. He was easily pushed aside in the Brit's mind in favor of his younger brother who he had only recently learned of. America. When England would come to see him he would always be ranting about how America was acting up and being an ungrateful whelp. At times he would begin to mistake Canada for his near look-a-like, but always managed to realize the difference in time. For this Canada was somewhat grateful to the powerful empire. He may have been left and forgotten numerous times but at least his current guardian never tried to get too close to him.

It still hurt. Then there was war. America was tired of England constantly treating him as a child and was declaring himself independent. England came to Canada, rifles and uniform in hand. The boy looked barely more than 12 but England insisted that he fight. It hurt. It hurt more than he could describe to have to fight his brother. He did not blame his brother for wanting his freedom. He too wanted to be free of being a pawn to stronger nations. However he knew he was not strong enough to fight them off, not like his brother. Then he realized, during a battle, that France was helping America. He was dumbfounded. France had promised to come back for him, to take him back from England. Some small part of him that had still been holding out hope for this died painfully that day. Even in his brother's quest to be free of the manipulative Europeans he was just letting himself be led from the grasp of one to another. France wasn't doing this for America, nor was he doing it for Canada. He was doing all this to avenge his own pride. Canada refused to fight after that. England still sent his people to fight but Canada himself stayed out of it.

America gained his independence when all was over and done with. Eventually his brother came to him. Arms outstretched in welcome and asking him to join him. Canada hesitated, then shook his head. He too wanted his freedom, England had begun imposing heavier burdens on him after America's successful war for independence, but he couldn't bring himself to trust his brother to help him. Too many times he had felt the sting of betrayal and he would harden his heart to even his brother to keep from feeling that pain again. It wasn't long after that that America decided to just take Canada for himself. America sent his soldiers to Canada, hellbent on bringing his brother to him. Burning York upon capturing it. What little kindness, hope or trust was left in the Canadian's heart before that moment was completely destroyed, burnt along with his capitol city.

Closing off his heart Canada fought with his soldiers. He wanted revenge, he wanted his brother to suffer some of the pain he had felt. So when his soldiers made it to Washington, Canada was standing there with a torch in hand and set the house his brother lived in afire. He thought he would feel some sense of accomplishment at gaining his revenge, but he just felt even more empty and hollow. He had won, had beaten his brother, who even England had lost to. He had shown he was more than he seemed despite appearing little more than 14. He should have felt something but he just couldn't.

From that moment forward Canada did all he could to avoid being noticed. He just wanted to disappear. As time went on he could sense the others forgetting his very existence. Eventually he gained his independence from England, but again he felt nothing for it. The once powerful nation had long since forgotten him and the document making him his own nation was little more than a formality between their governments. Canada had been free of England since he won in 1814.

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Ok so there is more I want to write for this but I'd rather put it in a separate chapter as it doesn't/won't have the same feeling as this one. So you got a prologue here rather than a one-shot. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok so I should really be working on other stuff right now, but screw it I want to get this out while I still am thinking about it.

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The blade cut deep into his flesh, searing hot pain lancing up his arm as the sharp instrument struck nerves and severed blood vessels. He almost wished it would leave a scar. He didn't know when he had first begun cutting himself, though he was sure it was sometime in 1814 after he had felt nothing when burning the White House. Anything to feel something other than that hollowness inside of himself. He had contemplated acting out against the other nations, but it always came back to the fact that he had fought and won a war and felt no satisfaction at the success. At least cutting left him feeling something.

The warm red liquid began to pour onto the floor of his walk in shower and slowly slide its way to the drain. He draws the blade down his arm again before setting the razor he was using aside and turning the faucet. The first blast of water was cold, but it slowly heated up, rinsing the red down the drain. Eventually Canada began to feel dizzy and lightheaded from blood lose. If he had been human he would have long since passed out and possibly even died from his self mutilation. He was not human however, he was Canada. A nation and world superpower. Not that many recognized him as such. Mostly he was forgotten, occasionally he was mistaken for his brother. It didn't matter, he knew it was better this way. This way he couldn't be hurt again.

By the time he was done with his shower his arm had already stopped bleeding. He still felt somewhat lightheaded, but grabbed some bandages and covered his cuts with them. They would most likely be gone by that evening. Once bandaged he donned a suit and headed out to his car. There was a world meeting that day and he needed to attend. A wave of dizziness struck him as he went to pull his keys from his pocket and he braces himself against the vehicle. Perhaps it would be better to call a cab or walk. He reaches for his phone just as another wave of dizziness strikes him.

The cab ride was nothing eventful. Canada paid the fair and went into the meeting hall. As he made his way in he had to stop several times to fight off bouts of dizziness. He began to rethink his decision to cut that morning, but brushed it aside. More than likely the meeting would be as it always was and he could nod off during the presentations. It wasn't like anyone noticed he was there to begin with. He quickly took his seat and waited for the meeting to begin.

Prussia was late as usual getting to the meeting hall. Even if he wasn't really needed at them he liked to come if for no other reason than to bug West, Austria and Hungary. It also gave him a chance to spend time with Spain and France. When he got to the conference room he saw there was only one seat left available. He scowled when he saw who it was next to. Great he would have to sit next to the loud American. That was when he heard the distinct laugh of said American, even though the one he was staring at was obviously being quiet. Looking around the room he sees America, England and France being their usual selves. Looking back at the one next to the only free seat he studies him, confused. He noticed some subtle differences and then it hit him. It was Canada. That was right he remembered when Francis had come crying to him after he had lost the Seven Years war about how England had taken his precious little Canada from him. He also remembered America talking about his brother when he had been training him during his revolution. He had talked about liberating his brother when he won his own freedom. Prussia wondered if that had worked out. He sort of remembered something about Canada having refused to leave with his brother but he could be mistaken. It didn't really matter. He could ask the boy about it at some point since they'd be sitting next to each other during the meeting. He quickly took his seat and made himself comfortable as West called the meeting to order and things got under way.

As the meeting came into full swing Prussia tried to get his neighbor's attention but noticed that he seemed to have dozed off. Frowning a bit he studied the younger nation and saw that he had dark bags under his eyes and seemed more pale than should be healthy. He also noticed a gauntness to the young man that wouldn't have been noticed unless you were actually looking at him up close. That was strange for Gilbert. Usually a nation that was suffering an economic depression would look like that. He knew though that Canada was one of the G8 nations and even in a recession he should look healthy. However despite that Canada looked like he represented some third world nation.

Right about then a break was called for lunch, but Prussia stayed where he was next to the still sleeping nation. Once the rest had cleared out to get their lunches he reached his hand out and shook the blonde's shoulder to wake him.

"Hey, Canada. It's time for lunch. It wouldn't be very awesome if you missed it."

He watched as the young man slowly opened his eyes and turned to face him. Prussia nearly gasped when he saw the dead look in the Canadian's eyes. He'd seen that look before, back in WWII, in the eyes of the victims of the concentration camps. They were the eyes of someone who wished they were dead, to end whatever suffering they were living. Seeing those eyes in a nation was more than a bit disturbing. Canada blinks a few times and the dead look fades a bit from his eyes, but Prussia can still see it lurking there. He gives a yawn and stands before starting for the door. He doesn't make it more than a few steps before he is falling into the wall. He hits with a light thud and Prussia is quick to get to his side.

"Hey, you ok?" He helps the Canadian to stand but is shrugged off quickly.

"I'll be fine."

Prussia frowns even more and follows close behind the blonde, catching him a few more times as he stumbles. At one point he grabs one of the Canadian's arms, gripping it to steady him. He doesn't miss the wince as his grip tightens and the Canadian seems to nearly collapse.

"Just leave me alone. I'll be fine on my own. I always am." The last part is said so softly Prussia isn't sure he heard it right. Regardless, he releases the blonde's arm. As Canada regains his foot Prussia notices his had feels a bit wet and looks down to see blood on his palm. It hadn't been there before. He quickly grabs the Canadian again and pulls his arm toward himself. He ignores the protests of the other nation as he sees the palm sized spot of blood seeping through his suit jacket. He quickly pushes the sleeve up and exposes the bandages on the other's arm, more blood and it seemed to be coming from all along the other's arm.

Canada yanks his arm back from Prussia's grip and forcefully shoves his sleeve back over the bandages.. It wasn't like he was ashamed of the wounds, he just didn't want anyone to get involved in his business.

"Canada, how did you get hurt so badly?"

"Its nothing. I just had an accident in the kitchen this morning while making breakfast. It will be gone soon, no need to worry yourself."

Canada makes to leave but Prussia quickly stops him. Prussia knew Canada was lying. Everything about the other nation pointed to something much darker going on. He looked the younger over again, taking in every detail about him. This wasn't nation related. It had nothing to do with the nation of Canada. This was something to do with only the person before him. Grabbing the wrist of his other hand Prussia nearly drags Canada out of the room and heads for the lunch room. He was getting to the bottom of this. Someone in his family had to know what was going on.

Canada fought the tight grip on his wrist, but he couldn't force it off. He was still weak from letting himself bleed so much that morning. So he was dragged along by the albino ex-nation. It's not like it mattered anyway, he was going to the lunch room anyway to get himself something to eat.

When they arrived at the lunch room Canada tried to break away from Prussia to get something to eat, but he could not get free of the other nation's strong grip. He saw he was being dragged over to where America, France and England were sitting. What was the Albino nation up to? Just as they were approaching the table and not but a few steps from it, Canada felt a suddenly strong wave of dizziness hit him. Suddenly the room was tilting and Canada couldn't keep himself upright in his weakened state. All his struggling against Prussia earlier had not helped him with that.

Prussia noticed as Canada seemed to sway before pitching to the floor. He just barely managed to catch the slighter nation, but it drew the attention of the nations he was heading for.

"Mattie!"

America and France were quick to get to their feet, England took a moment longer but soon all three blondes were surrounding Prussia as he held Canada.

"What are you doing to my brother you jerk?"

"Shut up and let me set him in a chair. Besides I didn't do anything you idiot. I just dragged him here to get answers."

It was when he mentioned getting answers that he felt the weakened nation he was holding begin to struggle against his hold.

"I'm fine, I'll be fine. Just leave me alone!" Even though his voice didn't get very loud it was plain to those around him he did not like what the Prussian was doing and America was quick to take him from the other and set him in a seat.

"He didn't hurt you did he Mattie?"

"No, no America he didn't hurt me."

America seemed to frown at the way his brother had referred to him.

"I've told you before bro, call me Al."

So he didn't use his brother's human name even after having been told to. That was odd. It also bugged Prussia that they didn't seem to have noticed the blood on his sleeve.

"Fine my ass."

Stepping forward Prussia grabs the injured arm of the Canadian and shoves his sleeve up his arm exposing the bloody bandages hidden beneath. Looking at them again Prussia couldn't help but think they should have been bloodier. Then the boy's appearance struck him. He wasn't bleeding as much as he should because he didn't have the blood in him to bleed. Prussia heard the gasp from the American next to him even as he reached for the bandages and began to undo them. Canada struggled weakly against his actions but he didn't have the strength to do anything.

"Mon dieu. Matthieu, your arm."

"It, its nothing France. I just cut myself this morning when I was making breakfast."

Prussia was pulling the bandages away as he heard the same bullshit excuse cross the nation's lips.

"Bullshit. You've lost so much blood you don't have any left to bleed properly."

"Mattie? Is, is that true? I mean you're not trying very hard to fight him off, it's all some joke right?"

Prussia paused slightly in unraveling the bandages, damn there were a lot of them, as he heard America's question. He knew America had ungodly strength and Canada was his brother, so was he just as strong?

"T that's right America, just a joke. Hahaha, thanks Prussia for helping me with this but its been blown now." He tried to pull his arm back one last time but Prussia kept his grip on the bandages. As he pulled his arm back it loosed the last of the bandages and exposed the ugly cuts on his arm. They stretched from his wrist to nearly his elbow. America was quick to grab his wrist, minding to be gentle as the three blondes and Prussia took in the wounds.

They were so deep, just how badly had this kid wanted to die?

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Ok quite possibly the worst place to end this but I want to get it posted and I'll just start on another chapter right away. Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Yo, I hope everyone is enjoying this so far. Anyway new chapter let's go.

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Canada wanted to be angry at the Prussian that had exposed him to the ones that thought of him as family but he really just could not bring himself to care. They weren't really his family after all, they had left him behind like everyone else. With the shock the other's were expressing at his self inflicted wounds he pulls his sleeve down to cover his arm. They'd be gone before he went to bed that night, just like they always were. They may linger though, he had gone rather deep that morning.

"Mattie." America grabs his shoulders and looks him in the eyes, staring in shock at what he must find there. Canada wasn't trying to put up his mask of trying. He didn't care anymore and he was still so tired from nearly bleeding out.

"Why do you call me that?"

All the eyes of those around him widened at his question.

"I'm Canada to you. Matthew Williams only exists on paper. Someone that hides me from nosy neighbors. You know my real name at least try to use it."

"Mattie." It's clear he struck a chord in his brother at that declaration.

"You don't mean that. You're, Mattie what's wrong? Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Growing tired of this Canada looked at his brother, he did seem upset, but he knew it wasn't, couldn't be real. It was nothing more than an act he and all the others put on to feel more human.

"You know I didn't feel anything when I did it."

America's gaze flickers to his arm and he grew confused. "What do you mean? You had to have felt something when you..."

"No sometimes I think that's the only time I feel anything at all. When the cool blade slices into me. I meant in 1814 when I burnt your capitol. I thought I would feel something when I did it, but there was nothing there. No satisfaction, no remorse, just hollowness."

That shocked the surrounding nations to the point that England found himself stepping forward, pushing America aside and taking his place. Kneeling in front of Canada with his hands on the other's shoulders he looks him in the eyes. Canada matches his gaze with dead hollow eyes and England for once takes in his former colony's appearance. Dark bags under his eyes. An unnaturally pale gauntness to his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, so sorry Matthew. If I had known..."

England was shocked when he was interrupted by a gentle laughter. "Sorry, what do you have to be sorry for England. You made sure to keep me at arm's distance. You never kept me close enough to cause me any real pain. No not you. You just left me alone while you focused on everything else. Not like America who made me trust that he would never hurt me. Or France who told me he would never leave me alone. You never promised you would return for me and then leave me all alone for longer than I can remember."

Canada felt something wet hit his hand and realized he was crying. Bringing his hand up he wipes his eyes of the tears. He shouldn't be crying, there was nothing to cry over.

The nations around him realized that this was more than just what it appeared. They wondered who had started all this. They always thought that France had been the first to find and meet the Canadian. That was when France remembered when he had first met the boy. He had come running up to him so enthusiastically, as if he had been expected. The Canadian had been speaking in some language that nagged at the back of his mind as being familiar but he shrugged it off as some kind of coincidence. Canada had been confused when he didn't recognize what he said but when France had spoken in a native american language he had learned further South the boy had gotten slightly sad and made him promise he would never leave him alone.

"Matthieu, who were you waiting for when I found you?"

The Canadian looks away, still rubbing tears from his face. "What does it matter? They never came back and they don't even remember they found me."

France looked to England, hoping he would know and then to America. Neither seemed to show any recognition. So who had gotten to the new world before France and England? Was it Spain? No he had stayed to the south, mostly going after the nations in South America.

While France tried to puzzle out who it was in his own way England thought about how the boy had implied he had waited for a very long time. Who may have reached the new world before Columbus set out. Saying that he had been waiting longer than he could remember made it possible he was referring to much further into the past than most would think when discussing discovery of the continent. Canada was far to the north. England pictured the globe in his mind. He thought about the other nations, perhaps Russia? No, he would have landed on the opposite coast if he had gone there prior to Columbus. Greenland and Iceland may have been close enough to make a journey, but they would have been too young at the time to make such a journey. At that time they had been in Denmark's house. England blinks as he realizes something. The vikings. They were excellent sailors and nearly a thousand years ago they had been expanding west. First to Iceland, then to Greenland and lastly to a place they had called, "Vinland."

"See, no hardly ever remembers I was once called that, not even the ones that named me."

He said it so coldly, it took England a moment to realize he had figured out who had left him behind. He swiftly stood and looked around, confusing the others around him and the Canadian. Canada seemed to be fighting to keep upright, he truly was very anemic.

"Alfred, take your brother to a hospital or something to get looked after properly. As anemic as he is he might hurt himself further."

"Um, alright." America watches after the Brit as he seems to find what he is looking for and strides off. America wants to follow him, he had a feeling he knew who he was looking for,'Vinland' after all was something he had heard of. Some scientists had just recently found proof of earlier settlements by Europeans that pre-dated Columbus. Which meant the Vikings where the ones to find and first abandon his brother. He looks at his brother and sees how pale he is and scoops him into his arms. The other blonde puts up little fight and America heads for the door, France following after.

Prussia watches as America takes his brother and leaves the lunch room. It didn't seem that they had disturbed the other nations in their lunch. Not yet anyway. Prussia had seen where England was headed and he figured he'd help the former pirate in getting answers.

As soon as England spotted them he made his way straight for them. They weren't even aware of the angry Englishman homing in on them like a missile and before they could even register that something was amiss he was slamming his palms onto their table. The resulting clap was enough to draw a hush over the nations enjoying their lunches throughout the lunchroom.

"We need to talk." He seemed to be glaring at the nations sitting before him at the table.

"What the hell about?" Denmark leaned back a bit from the table, crossing his arms.

"About Vinland. And why you never came back to him." England nearly growled the words out.

Denmark looked at him confused for a moment before realization struck him. He opened his mouth to speak a reply but Norway, beside him, was faster and cut off any replay he may have had.

"We wanted to come back, but our bosses wouldn't let us. They said we were spreading to thin. We could barely find people willing to settle so far from their birth place. It wasn't like the Age of Exploration in which you sent people to the new world. We needed resources and our bosses didn't care that we had found him."

Norway looks down at the table surface, ashamed. "We, I promised him we would come back. And even when we were able to return it was difficult to find him. France got to him first and it was too awkward to try and meet him while he was with France. We never were able to explain ourselves."

Denmark placed an arm around Norway and gave him a comforting hug. He understood it was hard on the man. What he didn't understand was why England was suddenly bringing this up now.

"So now you know. Care to explain why you're so angry over it? It was a long time ago and hardly anyone even knows or remembers we were here first."

"Canada remembers. He's never forgotten. You left him to fend for himself for over five hundred years. And now... I know I wasn't a perfect guardian and I probably have little right to be angry with you but, heaven help me, the boy needs you to explain this before things get any worse."

The nordics look at England in confusion before Finland speaks up.

"England, what to you mean? Did something happen to Canada?"

Prussia had been standing nearby during the whole exchange and barks out with a dry laugh.

"How could you not notice what just happened, though I guess everyone in here was more or less minding their own business. But how could you miss America carrying the kid out." His eyes narrow a bit. "He was taking him to the hospital."

Finland and Norway both move to stand, worry evident on their faces but a glare from England has them back in their seats.

"It's only to get him a transfusion, the main problem is that he's been hurting himself for god knows how long."

While England explained things to the nordics, Prussia couldn't help but think there was something much more wrong here than just a nation that had been jilted by everyone he thought he could trust. He had rejected his human name in such a way that he was rejecting his humanity. For all that Canada said and did the few times he was acknowledged by other nations it seemed he never let anyone get close to him. He had been so blank once his arms were exposed, like he had dropped the mask of caring how others saw him. He saw nothing wrong with being emotionless. But Prussia knew better, for that they were immortal and tied to their lands, they were still human. They could still feel pain and loneliness. They could still be hurt by others that got too close. Prussia had always been amazed at the difference between Canada and Russia, despite the similarities of their climates. And now he realized they much more similar than he had thought. Russia had not had an easy life, his history was written in blood it seemed. He had shut himself off from the rest of the world and it had nearly destroyed his mind. Prussia new as well as the rest that had spent the Cold War in Russia's house just how tenuous his grasp on sanity was. Canada it seemed had similarly shut himself off from the world in a frail attempt to protect his heart. But instead of hurting others, he was hurting himself.

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You know, I've always wondered why Canada is always portrayed as kind and gentle in comparison to Russia. They both have similar climates, in fact the North Pole is a part of Canada so the average temperature may actually be lower there or something. So why isn't Canada more like Russia? Probably cause he didn't have Mongolia, though maybe if the Vikings had stayed... Anyway please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Finally starting a new chapter for this. I am sorry for the delay, I'm going Larping again this upcoming weekend and I need to make a few things for it. Anyway lets just get going on this.

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Canada didn't understand why they were suddenly so concerned for him, it wasn't like they ever seemed to care before. Though for the last century or so he had been actively trying to be ignored and forgotten, it was easier to keep to himself that way. He looked to the front of the car they were in and saw that Francis was the one driving. He expected to see someone in the front seat, either Prussia or England, but it was vacant. Next to him was America keeping an arm around him and glancing nervously at him every now and then.

"Don't worry Mattie, we'll get you taken care of soon."

He wanted to respond that he didn't need or want their help but he was so tired. Maybe he had let himself bleed out a bit too long that morning. His wound hadn't even seemed to have healed up as much as it normally would have. It's not like it mattered anyway, it wasn't like he could die, lord knows he'd tried.

It wasn't long before they pulled up to the emergency entrance of the nearby hospital. Canada began to wonder how they were going to explain to the human doctors that the one they were bringing in had hardly any blood left in him but was still alive and conscious. This should at least be entertaining. America picked him up and carried him into the hospital, France following close behind.

When they reached the reception desk America got the nurse's attention quickly.

"Hey, my brother needs help. Like now."

The nurse looked up at them and took in the appearance of the young man in the other's arms. Canada could tell she was shocked by his appearance. He idly wondered why.

"What's wrong with him?" She stands and motions for him to follow her to a sitting area in the waiting room, grabbing a clipboard for patient information.

"He's been cutting himself. Look he needs attention right now, he's bled out a lot."

The nurse seemed to pause before changing her course and heading back through a door that he assumed led to the emergency rooms. She called another nurse over, "Do you know his blood type?"

Canada would have smiled at that question if he wasn't so tired, almost laughing at America's hesitation at answering that question.

"No, I don't."

The nurse nods and the other nurse runs off to get whatever she was going to get, probably type O- or whatever was the universal blood type. It didn't really matter to him. He felt himself being set down on a bed and then the nurse pulling up his sleeve to put in the IV.

She paused and again Canada wanted to smirk, what must she be thinking. She moves around to his other arm and puts in the needle, finishing about the same time as the second nurse returns with a pouch of blood. Canada wondered if the one bag would be enough.

America watched as the nurses hurried to get blood into his brother. He started a bit when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. It was France.

"Francis?"

"He will be fine mon cher. He just needs some blood, then he'll be fine."

America clenched his fists and looked to the floor.

"No he won't Francis. You heard him, this has been going on for a while. He needs help. I should have noticed sooner what was going on. Some hero I am."

He felt France pat his back. "You could not have known Alfred. Matthieu has been keeping us out for a very long time now. You are right that he needs help, and now that we do know we can make sure he gets it. Fix the wrongs we have done to him."

"Do you think it will be so easy? Francis, I think he may have killed his own humanity doing this. I, I'm not sure this can be fixed to be honest."

At that moment the two were interrupted by a doctor who began to ask questions about what happened. Getting a medical history, name of the patient and a few other basics. When he was done he motioned for the two to follow him out of the room to some seats just outside the door.

"So this was an attempted suicide?" The doctor looks over his notes so far. "We have a policy set in place for this. He'll need to see a psychologist. We have a list of ones we recommend. Also he can't be released on his own. One of you will need to sign him out. It's also recommended he not be left alone."

Both America and France nod, agreeing to the terms. They were already planning to do as they were being told. It was just a matter of figuring out where they were going to take him.

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Norway had been shocked to hear the state Canada was in. He knew he should have taken an opportunity to explain things to him. He wishes he had known sooner. Maybe if he had this could have already been fixed. Fixed, like that was even possible now. This wasn't something you could fix was it. Their broken promise seemed to have been the beginning of this chain reaction. They, the vikings, were responsible for planting the seed of doubt in the heart of the Canadian and it wouldn't be so simple to removed it now that it had grown.

The car comes to a stop at the hospital and Norway notes that the car with the rest of the nordics was pulling up next to them. He gets out of the car at the same time as Finland exits the other. They had taken two cars, Norway, England and Prussia in one while Denmark, Sweden, Finland and Iceland were in the other. Norway watches as Finland seems to be near panicking and unaware of what to do or where to go. Good thing Sweden wasn't far behind the Finn and managed to keep him somewhat calm. Norway wasn't surprised at how Finland was taking this news, he had made the promise to return as well. In fact the Finn was the most motherly figure in the young Canadian's life with them. Though he would begrudgingly admit he had been one as well.

The group entered the hospital and headed straight for the reception desk, England asking about where they would find Matthew. Once given directions to the Canadian's room they began to make their way there.

When they reached the room Norway saw that America and France were both sitting in chairs outside the room. France had an arm around the American, who held his face in his hands and seemed to be mumbling something.

"How is he doing?"

England was the first to speak up, voicing the question they all wanted answered.

France looks up at them, still rubbing America on the back in comfort.

"He is doing fine, they've given him a transfusion. I believe they are in the second bag..."

Eyes widen throughout the group, other than Prussia though. He was expecting that sort of response after all.

"Fine? I don't think he's ever going to be 'fine' Francis." The cynical response was so uncharacteristic of the American that the rest needed to do a double take to make sure they weren't hearing things.

"Oui, that is true."

At that moment Prussia steps forward and forces the American to look at him. "Alfred, you're his brother, his neighbor. We need to know how far back he started acting like this."

"How the hell should I know? 1812. It could have been earlier for all we know. We never even noticed he was hurting."

Prussia seemed to scowl before nearly slapping the almost hysterical nation in front of him. "If you can't figure it out on your own let me help. Earlier you said you'd told him to call you by your human name. Has he ever called you by that name?"

America looked thoughtful for a moment and then began shaking his head before switching to a nod.

"Yeah when we were little and Arthur brought him over just after he'd taken him from Francis. I told him to call me Alfred and he told me his name was Matthew. I think it was when we met once during my revolution that I first noticed he'd stopped calling me Alfred. I thought it was just cause Arthur was making him fight me, but after that he never once called me Alfred unless we were around humans."

Prussia furrows his brows in concentration. "When during your revolution did you see him?"

"Uh, well Francis was there..." The American looks thoughtful for a moment as if remembering something. "Hey Francis, Mattie told me once when we were little that you were going to come back for him, that you'd promised to take him back from Arthur." He looks expectantly at France.

"Ah, well. Oui, I did." THen he realizes something. "Mon dieu. You don't think he misunderstood my reasons for helping you mon cher."

Silence hung for a moment before Arthur broke it with a question, "What were your reasons Francis?"

"Alfred wanted to take Matthieu with him when he won his independence from you. I was helping him to reach that goal. I couldn't have known he would refuse Alfred's offer to go with him."

"So wait Mattie stayed with Arthur willingly even after Alfred won his independence?"

"Yeah. He turned me down when I asked him to come with me when I left Arthur. In 1812, my boss wanted Canada's lands and forced me to invade him. Its not like I wanted to force him to join me, but... You know how bosses can be?"

Silence once again engulfed the group before someone spoke up, surprisingly it was Denmark.

"We need to explain things to him, all of us. For whatever reason, he's only seen these events from one side and there is no way to know how he interpreted things. We all need to sit down and explain the reasons for our actions. Maybe it will help him to mend whatever is broken."

"And what if it only makes things worse?"

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The last line was norway, just didn't have a good way of putting that in the story. So I started typing this over a month ago... and only just now finished it. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm working on it! slowly but surely I am finally doing some writing. I've gotten so many reviews for all my in progress stories and I feel bad that I've been neglecting them. But I'm getting back on the ball, slowly but surely. so lets just get on with it right.

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Silence hung in the air with Norway's statement about making things worse.

"I suppose that is a risk we are going to have to take."

"So which of you is going first?"

The group looks amongst themselves before all eyes fall on America who is already standing.

"I'll go first. I really want to talk to him about a lot of things. So I'll just go first."

He moves to go into the room, no one stopping him.

America enters the room his brother is in and finds him staring out the window.

"Mattie?" America steps closer to his brother, carefully approaching the bed. getting no response from his brother he tries again. "Canada?" At that the blonde turns to face him. America can already tell he is doing better from the color now showing on his cheeks. He was still too pale for his comfort but it was better than before.

"Is something wrong America?"

"No." He settles himself on the edge of the bed, disturbed by the way Canada seems to just stare through him. "I just wanted to talk."

"Talk about what? If you're worried about this affecting your economy, don't. It hasn't even affected mine."

America was thrown off track for a moment that his brother really expected him to talk shop with him while he was sitting in a hospital bed having just been pumped full of blood.

"No, Mattie. I'm worried about you. We all are. Not Canada, but Matthew Williams. The person."

Canada sighs, as though he expected that. "America, Matthew Williams doesn't exist he never did. It's just a name I use, like all our human names, to fit in with our people so they don't see us for what we are. Those names let us feel like we're human, but we're not. Humans grow old and die in just a few decades. Humans have families that are always there for them. Humans die when they bleed to the point of their heart stopping. We don't, we keep moving and living and acting out this farce we call life. We don't need food or water or air. We are only human in appearance, so don't ever call me by any name other than Canada, that's all I am all I'll ever be."

America stares in shock. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, not for himself but for just how far his brother had come from the boy he knew when they were little. did he honestly think that way about himself. About all of them.

"No! Mattie we are human. We may be different, but we're still human. I know I had to have hurt you in 1812, but that wasn't me who made that decision. I tried to talk my boss out of it and I even refused to go to York. I know my soldiers burned it but that wasn't me. We aren't our people, we're our own individuals. We make our own choices. And yes sometimes we can't act on those choices because we are bound by our titles, but that doesn't make us less human!" America takes his brother's hand into his own. "Please Mattie, you gotta believe me. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, forgive me for not doing more for you. But most of all please, for all that is good in this world, please stop hurt yourself." The American begged and looked his brother straight in the eyes. He saw something, very deeply buried, stir behind those glossed over dead eyes. It ignited a spark of hope that just maybe they could do this. That they had a chance of righting the wrongs that had committed against his brother. That just maybe they could save him.

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America had been alone with Canada for an hour and outside the room the other nations were getting anxious.

France had taken the opportunity to explain what the doctor had said about taking Canada to a therapist as one of the conditions for his release. They all were a bit nervous about that. They weren't human and the things that were effecting the Canadian were things that a normal human shouldn't be told about. It was dangerous for them, it was dangerous for the nation, it was just plain dangerous. Whoever they choose to send him to would have to be told or it would all be in vain.

Just then America steps out of room and all eyes are on him.

"How did it go?"

America shrugs at the Brit's question.

"Good I suppose, I think I managed to get somewhere but I'm not sure. He's convinced himself we aren't human. Well I mean we aren't, but we aren't that different." He bows his head and threads his fingers from both hands into his hair, studying his lap. "God, how many times, how many ways has he tried to kill himself?" The others watch him in confusion to see if he elaborates. "He talked about all the things we don't need that humans do. Food, water... Air." America gulps after that last one. "I think he may have even bleed himself to the point his heart stopped before. This is wrong on so many levels. Why didn't we notice?"

Silence dominates as they all mull over this new information.

"We really need to figure out a good and safe doctor to take him to for therapy. Someone we can trust."

The rest nod at the Prussian's statement. There was no avoiding it now. They needed a professional to help or they were never going to get Canada back, if they ever had him to begin with.

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Alright, so I need a shrink for dear Mattie. I'm very tempted to use Dr. Sweets from Bones, yeah that would just be me being lazy, or I could make one from scratch. I'm also open to other suggestions for how to handle this dilemma. Please let me know in your review how I should go about things.


	6. Chapter 6

Yeah, new Chapter!. lol I suck for being so bad at updating these. I have so many ideas running through my head and I told myself. No you can not start something new till you finish some of these other stories. So get to work I tell myself. i did finish one though. It didn't have a happy ending but it was never really meant to. Go check it out, its called Three Phases.

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Dr. Lance Sweets was in his office going over some paperwork for a recently closed case he had helped Booth and Brennan with. Just after finishing the report his door is opened and a young man walks in with a nervous smile on his face. The man looks to be about 20 or 21 years old with blonde hair and blue eyes behind a pair of wire framed glasses.

"May I help you?"

The young man rubs the back of his head nervously before closing the door and nodding.

"Yeah. You're Dr. Sweets right? The best psychologist in the FBI?"

Sweets blinks at the last part of the question but nods. "Yes, I'm dr. Sweets, though I'm not sure I'm the best psychologist in the FBI." The young man seems to fall even further from what seems to be a normally chipper attitude. "Is there something you need help with?"

"Yeah, everyone I've asked says you're probably the best person for the job."

"Well, what is it you need me to do for you?"

"It's my brother. He really needs help."

At that answer Sweets becomes a bit concerned, sure he was a psychologist but he really only worked with FBI agents and within the department. Taking on what seemed to be a civilian patient wasn't something he could do.

Before he could answer though the man was elaborating.

"I know you usually only work with agents and stuff but this is a special case and I need a government psychologist. Someone I can trust. Taking this case would be highly confidential and you wouldn't be able to ever discuss it with anyone outside of myself and a short list of people I'll include if you agree to take the case."

Sweets was about to respond but shut his mouth at the hopeful and pleading look on the man's face. He was truly concerned for his brother. For whatever reason this young man needed his help and who was he to deny it.

"I'll need to get permission from the head of the FBI..."

"Already got it. Hacker said I just needed to get you to agree to it."

"Then I guess I have no objections. If you don't mind my asking why does your brother need a psychologist?"

The man's expression once again falls at the question. "He, he's been hurting himself. And I know if it was just that simple we'd find someone else or take care of him ourselves but," He sighs, "Its not that easy. None of us are qualified for this sort of thing, you are. You're used to handling patients that have seen some pretty terrible things. On top of that being a government psychologist I know we can trust you."

Sweets blinks at the explanation. It certainly didn't clear up much beyond the reason the man's brother needed to see a psychologist. But he still didn't understand why they couldn't take him to a normal psychologist.

Uh, Mr..."

"Oh sorry, its Jones, Alfred Jones."

Oh well, Mr. Jones. I usually help in profiling criminals or assessing whether an agent is qualified to continue working after having to fire a weapon. I can handle some trauma related mental illnesses, but handling a patient with suicidal tendencies is normally beyond what I would be asked to handle."

"Oh." Sweets notices that Alfred seems to fidget for a moment before reaching some sort of conclusion. "Don't go thinking I'm crazy or anything, this is part of the confidential info you'd need to know to treat my brother, and I still hope you'll treat him. We're not exactly normal. Normally we wouldn't even be doing something like this but... Mattie has convinced himself that we, that he has no need for his humanity. He doesn't think he's anything more than his job dictates. We've talked to his boss and he agrees that until we can get him back..." Alfred stops and suddenly looks very disturbed. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"No, go right ahead." Alfred's demeanor was rather concerning for Sweets but he was curious to know what was going on, Alfred was putting so much trust in him, it was the least he could do.

After sitting Alfred continues, "Actually we aren't sure how long ago this all started. He's cut himself off from us for so long we never noticed. We, it scares me to think the extremes he has to have gone to to try and kill himself. He was so sure of himself when he listed all the differences between us and everyone else. Dr. Sweets, you need to understand. Mattie can't kill himself. Despite how many times he tries. He may threaten it but he knows no matter how much he tries he won't die."

Confused Sweets has to ask. "What do you mean by that? Does he always back out at the last moment or something?"

There is no response from Alfred for the longest moment.

"I can't tell you more unless you agree to take his case."

Sweets thinks about it for a moment. This case certainly seemed to have a lot more to it than he was being told. The confidentiality alone was bordering on what Hodgins would claim a creepy government conspiracy, but he couldn't just leave this 'Mattie' person to suffer as he was. He obviously needed help and Alfred honestly believed that Sweets was the only on capable of taking the case.

"Yes, I'll take the case."

Relief flooded across Alfred's face at those words.

"Thank you Dr. Sweets. Since you'll be taking the case I should tell you a bit more about your patient, at least why we needed a government psychologist anyway."

"That has been something I'm curious about."

"Ok, now no thinking I'm crazy or anything for this, but my brother is the personification of Canada. You asked earlier why he couldn't kill himself. Its because as long as Canada exists he can't die. He could blow his head off with a gun, something I think he may have actually tried, and be up and running around within a few days time."

Sweets just stares at Alfred. That he was not expecting. So now he had a suicidal immortal as a patient. And he was expected to what exactly.

"What?" He voice wobbles in his shocked response.

"If it were just about him being depressed and cutting himself we wouldn't be needing you but he's convinced himself that he is just a tool to measure the condition of the nation he represents. He doesn't feel human. I want my brother back, the one I remember from when I was little. The kid who would run up to me with a smile when Arthur would let him come down to visit. But even back then it may have been a mask for the pain he was feeling."

That caused Sweets to swallow as he began to realize how far back this must have started. Alfred was referring to his childhood, one in which his brother may not have been who he thought he was. This lead to another question that made Sweets pause.

"How long ago was this? When you're brother had been separated from you?"

"Well not really separated, but yeah. This would have been around 1750-1760."

So long ago. "Mr. Jones, if your brother is Canada..."

Realization dawns in Alfred's expression at the half finished question , "Oh, yeah I'm the United States' personification. Mattie's older than me by a few centuries though. From what we can figure out this all mostly started when the vikings landed in Canada and were calling it Vinland. Mattie didn't take being left behind so well. And then France left him to England... He's always being left behind by everyone. And none of us noticed until just recently."

"Its alright. I'll do what I can to help. Where is he right now?"

"A friend of ours is watching him at my place. We all felt it was best to have someone watching him at all times and between Gilbert and I we should be able to keep him from needing to go to a hospital again. But we can't do anything about his mental issues."

"I understand, let's make an appointment then so we know when he can come in and we can get started."

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So I decided to use Dr. Sweets. I really couldn't think of how to do this all by starting from scratch. Sweets is convenient since he works for the FBI. That means Alfred can have some control over things, plus could you really see the nations trusting anyone not working in a government position with this sort of information. Didn't think so. Anyway, please review.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey I'm updating again, and so soon. Joy!

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Dr. Sweets checked his watch again as he stood in the adjacent room to where Booth was interrogating their latest suspect in a case. He had 15 more minutes until he would be late for his appointment with Matthew Williams, or was it the nation of Canada. He was still rather confused about this whole case but he knew they needed him and he would do what he could. Brennan seemed to notice his agitation and constant checking of the time.

"Is there an appointment you have this afternoon Dr. Sweets?"

"Ah, oh yes. I'm taking on a new patient today and his appointment is in fifteen minutes."

Brennan nods and leaves it at that. Thankfully the interrogation ends at about that point, allowing Sweets to give his quick opinion on the guilt of the suspect before running off to his office.

He arrives just as a blonde and albino do. It doesn't take him long to realize the blonde must be his patient. The similarities between him and his brother were uncanny. Knowing who the blonde was it didn't take much to realize that the albino must be the one that was helping Alfred with taking care of his brother.

"You must be Matthew. I'm Dr. Sweets." He holds his hand out to the blonde who just looks at it for a moment before taking it and stiffly shaking it. Concerned for the blonde he still turns to greet the albino.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. Don't know if Alfred told you my name or not. He had a meeting this afternoon so I was asked to bring Mattie."

"Oh, that's perfectly alright. If you want to make yourself comfortable out here." He motions to the small waiting/lounge area outside his office proper. "I'll take Matthew in with me and we can get started."

"Ja, that sounds good."

Gilbert settles himself on a couch and pulls out set of headphones and handheld gaming device while making himself comfortable.

Sweets leads Matthew into his office and closes the door.

"Please take a seat."

The blonde takes a seat and looks around.

"You don't need to be doing this. There isn't a point. I'm not like you, none of us are. I don't understand why they keep pretending they care."

Normally when someone said something like that there was a bite to it or at least some level of sadness, but the way Matthew said it was so hollow, robotic even. It was like he really wasn't human. But Alfred had assured him that despite not being human, the nations all were still human were it really counted. They felt all the same emotions. It was Sweets job to make Matthew see that, to begin helping him to realize that he was more than just an indicator of the health of his nation. Sweets suddenly had a realization of how difficult this would be. When Alfred had been describing what was wrong it hadn't seemed so, well so impossible. But having Matthew sitting across from him he was able to understand why his family needed someone that was a professional dealing with this. It wouldn't be easy but Sweets was sure it could be done.

"Well, Matthew... You don't mind if I call you Matthew do you?"

The question seemed to cause the young man to look thoughtful for a moment. "No. I don't mind. You're human and its usually the name I use to cause less confusion."

Sweets made a note of that. It seemed he used the 'human' name to help other's feel he fit in more.

"Alright then. Well your brother tells me you hurt yourself. Could you tell me more about that?"

Matthew seems to roll his eyes. "He's not really my brother. Not like we have parents or anything to give us a blood relation. We just look so alike and share a border so everyone just says we're related." He seems to harden his eyes as he speaks, though his gaze remains on his knees. "If I were a human I'm sure the fact I cut myself to feel I'm real would be concerning but I'm not. When you've lived as long as I have you realize that the only thing you really feel is pain. It helps me to stay in touch. Though I suppose it could be bad if it started effecting my nation, but it never has."

Sweets made note of what was said and how it was said. He said it so nonchalantly. He had always thought that Brennan would be the only person he would ever meet that was able to sound so clinical. Sure she felt upset and had passion for solving her cases but she was always able to detach herself and look at the cases analytically when it was called for. Matthew however was on a whole other level and to be honest it rather scared the young psychologist. Which led to his next question.

"Have you ever considered hurting others?"

"Yes." He answered so quickly and surely that Sweets didn't doubt it. "In 1812 America sent troops to invade me. They made it to York and burned it to the ground. Within two years I was setting a torch to the White House. I thought that I would feel good about it, joy, some form of accomplishment. But I didn't feel anything. So yes, I've thought about hurting others but it wouldn't gain me anything. So why bother? I always feel it when I hurt myself though. That's enough for me."

Sweets gulps when he hears about the war of 1812 from Matthew. He hadn't thought about that sort of thing when he took this case. Now however he couldn't help but think about it. Matthew had fought in war, as a nation it only made sense that he would fight with his people. But he treated it no differently than a paper pushing drone treated their job. It was strictly business. Somewhere that should have been a comfort, but being able to kill without remorse was nearly as bad as killing and feeling joy or satisfaction.

"Is that when you started to hurt yourself?"

Matthew puts a finger to the side of his mouth as though thinking. "I think so. It was so long ago though, but I really do think it was some time after that that I started."

"Sweets made note of the answer before continuing. "Why do you think America sent soldiers to attack you?"

"I think he wanted to control me, just like the rest of the nations in Europe. I would have been one more prize to hold over and gloat about to England. He may have convinced himself he was trying to 'liberate' me from England but he just wanted to get in on the empire train as everyone else at the time was trying. I had land and resources he wanted. On top of that I think his boss was afraid that England would use me as a staging point for launching an attack on the US as they weren't very strong or organized at the time and if England had really tried he could have easily forced America to return to his empire. He didn't though, to upset mourning over the lost opportunities to even remember I was there. Except to heap on more taxes. Taxes I couldn't afford. The people were barely able to feed themselves. Then America had to come and attack, trampling our crops and forcing farmers to take up arms to defend their lands from soldiers."

Sweets watched as the Canadian began to get angry at the memories of those years. Anger was good though, so far the blonde had been an emotionless shell that seemed content to just recite facts. That he could get angry was a good sign. Now he just needed to uncover the rest of his emotions so he could get to the root of this problem.

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By the time his hour with the psychologist was over and done with Canada wasn't sure if he was relieved or wanted to stay longer. Sure he felt this whole thing was pointless. It wasn't like there was anything really wrong with him. It was everyone else that had managed to convince themselves they were still human that had the problem. It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter though. If he didn't come to these things America had threatened to tell his boss what was going on and he really didn't need Harper meddling in his personal affairs.

Exiting the office Canada walked over to Prussia and waited for him to get up from the couch he had sprawled out onto.

"Matthew, I'll see you again next week, same time?"

"Yeah."

Prussia sat up then and sent a weak smile at Dr. Sweets.

"Yo, thanks Doc for the help. Did it go well?"

"Its only the first appointment, its hard to say."

"Oh, well ok then, see you next week right?"

"Let's just go Gilbert. Kumagiro is probably getting hungry and I don't want Alfred feeding him hamburgers."

"Alright, alright, lets get back to burger boy's place so you can feed your damn bear."

With that the two left.

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I really wish I knew more about psychology. I would love it if someone would help me out by letting me know how I'm doing. Maybe give me tips on what should be happening in the sessions with Dr. Sweets. Review please


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